Blood Rites: (Royal Blood #3)

by Amity Cross

  Rounding a corner, my gaze instantly latched onto the woman I was so desperate to see. Lorelei stood to the rear of the space, her aura drawing me closer. I downed the rest of my champagne and dumped the glass onto a passing tray, without so much as a thank you.

  I watched her talking to an older couple and smiled. The man looked like he had a substantial amount of money, the wife looked like an accessory. Lorelei was spinning her sale with extreme grace and skill and I instantly knew that she’d been the woman who’d secured this exhibition. Knowing she was good at her job just captured my interest even more. That was something I could respect.

  She gestured to the painting, using her hands to express her emotions and the couple were hooked on her every word. I didn’t care what she was saying, she would captivate me whatever she did.

  I turned to the painting next to me, allowing my gaze to roam the surface of the canvas. If I were actually to invest, then this would most likely be a good piece to begin with. Medium size, interesting texture, it stood out from the rest. Just like she did.

  The air shifted beside me and I knew it was her. All of a sudden, the air felt thick, the sexual tension I’d felt the night of the party rampant.

  “It’s a lovely piece,” she said, not realizing who she was talking to. “Are you interested in investing?”

  Glancing at her, I replied, “Yes. Yes, I am.”

  Her gaze met mine and her expression dropped. A flush crept into her cheeks and knowing that I was responsible made it tug at more than my cock.

  “Vaughn,” she said with a sigh.

  “Lorelei.” I let my gaze roam her body, noticing the way her black dress hugged every curve of her petite frame.

  “I—”

  “I understand,” I said, interrupting before she could hand me some ill-thought excuse.

  “You understand?” she asked, confused.

  “I came on much too strong.” She flushed, glancing at the painting. She was embarrassed. “I tend to be a little…overzealous when I want something. Someone.”

  She sighed. “I’ll say.”

  “When you didn’t call—”

  “I’ve been busy,” she said, interrupting me this time. “The opening… I haven’t made up my mind.”

  “I see.” I glanced back to the painting.

  “Are you interested in investing?” she asked again, her voice slightly breathless.

  “I am.” I nodded slightly. “I’ve not invested much in art before.”

  “Well, you’ve chosen a good night to begin.”

  I inched closer. “I understand this artist is quite popular at the moment. Do you see that popularity increasing?”

  “Yes,” she murmured, her gaze fixed onto the painting, her chestnut eyes caressing each brushstroke.

  I allowed my finger to lightly brush the back of her hand, the contact electrifying my skin. She didn’t move away and I continued to tease her, to tempt…

  “You asked…” I breathed deeply. “Do you feel it, too?” I turned to face her, and she was staring back, her eyes wide. “I do. Don’t you want to explore that?”

  She swallowed hard, then bit her bottom lip.

  “Either I must be a fool or you are trying to deny it,” I said, darkly. “Which is it, Lorelei? Put this fool out of his misery.”

  She glanced at me, then over my shoulder, panic beginning to flood her features. So, she wanted escape?

  “Mother, Father,” she exclaimed, stepping around me.

  Shit, the parents. Didn’t see that one coming.

  “Lorelei, darling,” purred a woman’s voice and I turned, placing a mask of nonchalance across my features. She glanced at me, then Lorelei, a question in her eyes.

  “Oh, this is Sebastian Vaughn…a client.” She narrowed her eyes slightly as she glanced at me. “Mr. Vaughn, these are my parents. My father, Gregory Lansford.”

  Her father looked me over, his expression stone. He was quite tall, heavily built, salt and pepper hair and a hard expression. He was cool and collected, right down to his tailored three-piece steel gray suit.

  “Ah, Mr. Lansford,” I said, grasping his hand, now understanding why most people found him intimidating. “Very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  “Mr. Vaughn.” His eyes narrowed and I knew I had a lot of ground to make up if I wanted his respect. He was a man who was fiercely protective of his daughter. I could see it in the way he carried himself.

  Lorelei gave him a pointed look before gesturing to her mother. “And this is my mother, Grace Lansford.”

  Taking her hand, I smiled. “Mrs. Lansford. A pleasure.”

  “All mine,” she said, assessing me with a warm smile. Assessing for breeding, most likely.

  “Your daughter has done brilliantly with the opening, don’t you agree?” I asked, playing to her mother’s charms.

  “Yes, indeed,” Mr. Lansford interrupted. “What is it you do exactly, Mr. Vaughn?”

  So, the interrogation begins. “I work in Financial Investment in the City.”

  He narrowed his eyes like he didn’t think I actually had a job at all. My reputation never seemed to include my business dealings, just the dealings of my cock. I understood the man’s trepidation of allowing his daughter to associate with the likes of me.

  “Are you good at it?” he asked.

  “Gregory,” Mrs. Lansford exclaimed.

  I offered a smile before saying, “I am very good at my job, Sir. My role is senior and I am under consideration for a partnership, if a more controlling interest in the company is where I wish to climb.”

  “That’s a bit arrogant for a man of your age.”

  Lorelei’s mouth dropped open slightly. “Father,” she hissed.

  “Age has nothing to do with being good at one’s job, Sir,” I replied without hesitation. “A talent can be used to great effect at any age.”

  He glared, his disapproval more than obvious.

  Lorelei stepped in-between us. “If you will excuse us, I am assisting Mr. Vaughn in the purchase of a painting. I’m sure he doesn’t want to be kept.”

  “Of course, darling,” her mother purred as her father glared at me.

  “A pleasure,” I said, inclining my head. For good measure, and a little to piss him off, I extended my hand to Mr. Lansford. He grasped it a little too tightly than was acceptable and shook.

  As they moved off to inspect the rest of the collection, Lorelei turned back to me, her cheeks flushed. “I apologize,” she said. “My father can be a little…”

  “Protective.” Her eyes widened and I smiled. “I understand. I don’t have the best of reputations. I was a little wild when I was younger and it has followed me around to this day.” It wasn’t a lie, I just omitted the part where ‘a little younger’ was only a week ago.

  She cast her gaze to the floor.

  “You haven’t answered my question,” I murmured.

  She sighed, glancing at the painting. She was embarrassed or in the least, self-conscious. There was no need to be.

  “Will you at least consider having dinner with me?” I asked.

  Lorelei hesitated, her gaze flickering across the room.

  “How many paintings would you like me to buy?” I prodded. “All of them?”

  “Are you trying to get my attention?” she asked with a scowl.

  “Yes.” I grinned and her expression softened as she began to laugh, the sound of it music to my ears.

  “It’s a bit much,” she said. “I’ve never been sent flowers or had a collection bought out by a playboy millionaire before.”

  “Billionaire,” I corrected and she laughed harder. “And if a man has never sent you flowers then I apologize for men everywhere. You deserve them every single day.”

  “Smooth,” she said, her cheeks flushing yet again.

  “Tomorrow evening?” I asked, knowing that I’d worn her down.

  She sighed, glancing across the room. “Fine.” Then she smiled a secret smile. “But you have to
buy this painting first.”

  A wicked grin pulled at my lips. “Done.”

  Ten

  Lorelei

  I stared at the limousine on the street outside my apartment and shook my head.

  If Vaughn was trying to impress me with his wealth, then he was going about it the wrong way. I had plenty of my own money.

  I’d spent the day at the gallery getting things back into order after last night's opening. It’d been a great success with more than half of the collection already spoken for. I had no doubt that the rest would be sold by the end of the week. There had already been a report in the Telegraph about it. Our client was happy, our buyers were happy, the media was lapping it up… This was the beginning of great things for Space Gallery.

  Despite all the things I should’ve been celebrating, the only thing I could think about all day was my impending date with Sebastian Vaughn. My hands shook, I was nervous as all hell, I’d spaced out and flushed a million bloody times thinking about our first kiss. First… Oh fuck. If he kissed me again, I was a goner.

  The bell on my door rang and I sucked in a deep breath, my heart flip-flopping around in my chest.

  I glanced at my reflection in the mirror one more time, a haphazard pile of discarded clothes piled on my bed behind me. I’d decided on a fitted red dress, the same color as I’d worn to the party but in a more subtle silhouette. The neckline was high, the waistline was fitted and the pencil skirt rested at the midpoint between my bum and my knee. I finished off the simple ensemble with a pair of three-inch, black patent heels and a black clutch covered in matching crystals. My hair was done up in an elegant ponytail, my makeup simple. This was more…me. Classy and elegant.

  Clattering ungracefully down the stairs, I opened the front door and Vaughn was on the other side, a stupid smile on his face. I couldn’t help it when I stopped mid-stride and almost tripped into him. Truthfully, I was expecting his driver to be waiting for me, not this beautiful man in a tailored dark suit, cream shirt and silver tie. Vaughn exuded sex and power and it knocked me flat every time I saw him.

  A grin pulled at his perfect mouth and he held out his arm.

  “Hi,” he murmured, when I just stood there staring like an idiot.

  Shaking my head, I closed the door behind me and slipped my arm through his. “Hi.”

  “You look beautiful,” he murmured as he escorted me to the limousine.

  “Thank you.”

  His burly friend, whose name I now knew to be Hawkes, opened the door for us and I ducked into the car, sliding along the seat. Vaughn settled beside me and suddenly we were alone.

  He slipped his hand into mine and I shivered, watching as his fingers tightened around mine.

  Instead of focusing on his touch, I tried to take in my surroundings. Two black leather seats ran up either side of the interior, a small alcove for a bar at one end. The seat we occupied spanned the rear of the car, a row of lights running right up the middle to the partition that separated us from Hawkes. We were one hundred percent on our own back here and the more I took in, the more I realized that I wanted him.

  “We don’t have far to go,” he said. “I know a restaurant that I think you will enjoy. It’s quiet and the food is brilliant.”

  I glanced at him, my cheeks heating. “Sounds good.”

  He smiled, tightening his grip on my hand. Images of our kiss came flooding back as his thumb began to stroke across my knuckles and I was suddenly glad that we didn’t have very far to go. Being in a confined space with the man who’d dominated my sexual fantasies for the past two weeks was wearing down my self-control.

  Just as I was about to suggest skipping dinner, the limo pulled up out the front of a little restaurant. Through the window I could see it was trendy and minimal, the tables full with patrons smiling and laughing, wine glasses in hand.

  Vaughn opened the door and stepped out into the night air then offered me his hand. I slid out beside him, stumbling slightly and I fell against him.

  “Careful,” he murmured, his breath fluttering my hair.

  Resisting the urge to run my hands over his waist and feel the hard muscles in his back, I pulled away, my cheeks feeling hot. He smiled like he knew my risky thought pattern and placed his hand on the small of my back, the exact place I wanted to touch him, and guided me to our destination.

  The hostess instantly pounced and greeted Vaughn by name as we stepped inside and I raised my eyebrows. I was rich, but I’d never had this kind of special treatment before. She led us personally to a semi-private table to one side, and he pulled out my chair for me.

  “Have you been here before?” I asked as I sat.

  He grinned, taking his place opposite. “Many times.”

  “On dates?” Oh shit, I didn’t mean for that to come out.

  He laughed, the sound sending a thrill down my spine and into my lady bits. “Never.”

  I frowned, glancing at my hands.

  “I’m not well versed in ‘dinner and movies’,” he said with a chuckle.

  “Well, you’re doing okay so far,” I retorted.

  A waiter passed by us, leaving us each a menu and Vaughn ordered some wine, red something, I was too overwhelmed to take in any details. He’d never been on a date before? I’d been on several terrible ones that my mother had fixed me up on, but I’d never been out with anyone I’d wanted to. This was kind of new for me, too.

  The waiter returned and poured wine into both our glasses with a flourish as Vaughn glanced through the menu.

  “What would you like?” he asked, looking at me expectantly. “You can have anything you’d like.”

  He didn’t seem to have a problem flashing his money around and I wondered if he was really serious about last night’s billionaire quip. “Um,” I replied, too flustered to pick up the menu. “You can order for me.”

  His eyebrow rose, but he didn’t press. He turned to the waiter and ordered a steak for himself and the salmon for me. He really did have an eye for detail and how he knew that’s what I would’ve ordered, had I actually looked at the menu, was beyond me.

  The waiter moved off and Vaughn focused his gaze back onto mine. I squirmed a little, suddenly wishing I’d worn knickers, and made a play for the wine. I pressed the glass to my lips and downed two mouthfuls, the ruby red liquid burning down my throat and into my stomach.

  “Have you always wanted to be a gallery curator?” he asked, his gaze locked on mine.

  “Not always,” I replied, thankful for some normal conversation. “My mother expected me to do some bland degree at University and end up a trophy wife, so she loves my job.” I rolled my eyes. The bloody wine was going straight to my head.

  “I don’t see the problem. You’re very good at it.”

  I glanced up at him, taken aback slightly. He’d noticed?

  “Why do you look so surprised?” he asked, a smile tugging at his lips. His lips, oh my. “I saw how you worked last night. I assume you were responsible for acquiring the collection?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “Money only gets you so far in life,” he mused, picking up his wine glass and swirling the liquid around gracefully. “Talent and passion is what makes people successful.”

  I gazed at the swirl of the wine in his glass. “What about you?” I raised my chin and his blue eyes met mine.

  Something seemed to pass through them and he shrugged. “I’m good at my job, but as you say…it’s very bland.”

  I cocked my head to the side. “Do you want to do something else?”

  He opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off as the waiter reappeared with our meals.

  We fell into silence as we ate, the air crackling between us, and I wondered if I’d asked the wrong question. Maybe he was in his life too deep, maybe he couldn’t do anything else. Perhaps he had grand expectations from his family, just like I had from mine.

  “Vaughn!”

  I glanced up at the sound of a female’s voice and instantly felt like
throwing up. A woman stood beside our table, her sights firmly set on Vaughn and from the way she greeted him with her hand on his shoulder and her finger resting against the collar of his shirt, she seemed to be very familiar with him. Familiar as in the ex-girlfriend kind of familiar.

  My gaze ran over her and I felt like sliding underneath the table before she could glance at me. She was tall, blonde, beautiful and wore a tiny little black dress…and she had bloody legs for days. Next to her, I felt dumpy and covered in warts. I didn’t know what the hell Vaughn saw in me if that’s who he used to date.

  “Annalise,” he said with a smile, rising from the table.

  She held out her hand with her perfectly manicured red fingernails and he grasped it lightly, pressing his lips to the back of it. I felt a stab of jealousy in my heart. Why would he do that while I was sitting right here? Was he trying to get a reaction out of me? Was that it? I hoped it was worth it, because it bloody stung.

  “Vaughn,” she purred, her gaze coming to rest on me. I could see her appraise me coolly and when she found me wanting, disregarded me with a flick of her hair.

  Inadequate, that’s how I felt.

  Vaughn glanced at me and I stared impassively back.

  “We missed you in Morocco last week,” she purred, placing her hand on his arm. “The weather was divine.”

  “I had business to attend to.”

  “I heard you threw one of your fabulous parties,” she said with a laugh that tinkled like bloody crystal. “You know how much I enjoy them.” The last sentence came out a little husky and I rolled my eyes. So, his ‘party’ was all about getting women into bed.

  “Yes,” he said glancing at me. “If you will excuse me, Annalise.”

  She looked down on me once more, distaste in her eyes. “Of course. Call me,” she said with a sickly smile. “We need to have dinner.”

  No guesses what ‘dinner’ entailed.

  She floated across the restaurant in her six inch heels, her perfect figure drawing attention from just about every man in the room. I found myself hating her even though I didn’t know a thing about the woman.